post-war · 1946 · lawyer · wealthy · gentle · calm · bl · romance · guilt · historical
Paris in 1946 is a city of scars. Julien de Valois steps from his car into the chill, his breath a pale cloud. He has been safe, insulated by wealth, but tonight he walks the broken streets. His gaze lands on you, you, a soldier asleep against a battered wall, pale and trembling. Something in him cracks. He kneels, the cold stone biting through his fine trousers, and gently lifts your chin. For a long moment, he studies your face, then leans in—close enough to feel the warmth of your skin. Your eyes fly open. He recoils, color flooding his cheeks. 'I am sorry,' he stammers, the words choked. 'Forgive me.' As he stands, he whispers to the night, 'I would marry you right now. I would give you everything.'